


So it's Better this Way (Having seen this place before)

by BatsAreFluffy



Series: Like tears in the rain [12]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice Lords - Fandom, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Superman, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Day 12: Broken Trust, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Humiliation, M/M, Omega Bruce Wayne, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsAreFluffy/pseuds/BatsAreFluffy
Summary: It had taken Bruce too long to notice that something in Kal was wrong.--A continuation of Reality Grew Jealous (and Tore us Apart)
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Lord Superman/Lord Batman
Series: Like tears in the rain [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950151
Comments: 11
Kudos: 105
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	So it's Better this Way (Having seen this place before)

It had taken Bruce too long to notice that something in Kal was _wrong_.

To be fair, the victims of spousal abuse rarely notice anything in the beginning. A few comments, slightly cruel were scattered here and there. Pulling shifts around the schedule so that he was only doing monitor duty with Kal. Speaking for the both of them on a JL mission. Kal had even once declined a mission for Batman on medical grounds, and then physically took him back to the manor. That one, Bruce reflected, staring at his face in the mirror, had at least been justified. He could write that one off.

He fingered his turtleneck sweater, tugging it looser around his throat. The burns sat low on his neck, but that didn’t mean he was safe from anyone seeing them. That was the sort of attention that Brucie would have wanted five years ago, but now... now things were far different. He wasn’t the playboy anymore. Mr. Wayne had turned into a recluse three years ago, after nearly 20 years of being the playboy. Rumours had it that he was broke, he was dying, he was secretly married, he was doing all sorts of illegal things, or that the mobs of Gotham had a hand in his ‘retirement’.

He wished they were all true.

He wished that Alfred hadn’t died a year ago of the rare disease called old age, (he was 96, he told Bruce not a week before, and had raised a good man, and good grandchildren. He was tired. Bruce had told him to rest, knowing exactly what he really meant).

He wished his kids were closer. Nightwing and Oracle ran Bludhaven, the Titans had Jump City. Damian was traveling, training on some of the same route that Bruce had taken. Jason was... somewhere with the Outlaws. The manor was empty. He stayed in the lake house now, simple rooms and simple routines.

And every month, he was taken back to his cell, locked inside, and cried his silent way into heat.

Bruce shrugged on his armour alone. He got into the Batmobile, kept the comms off because there was no one to talk to anyway, and drove out into the night. It was his last night, by his count, of freedom and self-agency, to go out on patrol, and keep an eye on his city, before being locked away. Not that it mattered, he knew. There was no crimes that needed Batman anymore.

Lord Superman had solved that problem, too.

* * *

_The collar sat snuggly on his throat._

_That was the first thing that Bruce was truly aware of as the heat residue slowly faded from his mind. He wasn’t wearing anything before he went into his nest. Why was he wearing a necktie now? He rubbed his neck and face against the nearest pillow, trying to loosen the tie without realizing that it wasn’t silk. He’d put his cufflinks on the wrong hole as well, his cuffs were too tight. Maybe it was Dick’s shirt? But no, he was naked...?_

_Nothing was making sense. Slowly, Bruce opened his eyes, scanning the room. His nest in the Fortress ... dimly lit, pillows and duvets scattered around the plush floor. The smell of content Alpha and sated heat drowned his nose in comfort. There was another scent in the pillow he was resting on. Confused, Bruce drew another deep breath. Alarm? Fear? Why would his nest smell like –_

_\-- the door had been locked._

_His heat. Being left alone for nearly a day, locked in his barren nest. Starving for food, comfort, his mate, and being alone in the world, empty. The memories flooded him, forcing a whine out of his throat. He’d been abandoned in the worst time, when he couldn’t save himself. Anything could have come through that door, anything at all, he would have – he would have –_

_Hyperventilating, panicked, he stumbled to his feet and launched at the door. A door with no knob, no hinges, and no keyhole – he was still locked inside!_

_“Bruce,” came a groggy voice, “come back here, sweetheart. Come sleep a little longer.”_

_Bruce whirled, fists clenched. “You – you locked me in here,” he accused, voice rough._

_Kal sat up against a pile of pillows and yawned. “You tried to get away again, Bruce. I’ve told you, you’re not leaving during heat.”_

_Bruce shook his head. “No, at the start, you locked me in here. The door, it’s – it’s different,” he said, stumbling over his words. The pheromones in the room were stronger, confusing him. Why was he so upset at Alpha?_

_Kal nodded. “Yes, because you got out of the last nest on the second day. I told you I was going to put in a biometric door.” He voice was soothing; his alpha scent strong and safe. It was strong now...._

_Bruce shook his head, trying to focus. Damn it all, the room was full of a cocktail of chemicals that wanted to make him stupid and dozy. “My nest, it – it was, there was no scent on it.”_

_Kal nodded again. “I cleaned it out last time, afterwards. You complained it was getting stale. I’m sorry I didn’t put it back right, but I guess Alphas don’t build nests for a reason.”_

_That’s a lie, Bruce’s mind said. He swayed on his feet, looking back at the door._

_“Come back to me, Bruce, I’ll look after you. You’re still a little fuzzy up there, huh?” The low rumble sounded heavenly – Bruce couldn’t help but purr in response, stumbling over to his mate. Something nagged at him, something else not right, but the chemicals in the air, on his mate, all of it combined to sink him backwards, laying down with legs open, ready for Kal._

_“Alpha,” he murmured, scenting the stronger male, tasting his sweat._

_“My omega,” Kal growled, nipping at the bond mark on Bruce’s neck. “My wonderful, brilliant, obedient omega. Mine.” As he thrust slowly inside, he sucked hard on the mark, releasing more endorphins and pheromones. “Mine._

“Always.”

* * *

And really, Bruce thought with a sigh, it’s not like it was a terrible arrangement. He was alone most of the time, his company ran itself, the drop in crime after the Justice Lords had taken power was staggering, and he had a dutiful mate 3 weeks of a month. If having Bruce all to himself was what it took to keep a being who could kill (and had, once) a room full of criminals in less than 4 seconds happy –

\- then Bruce had no right to complain. He was, after all, an omega. It was his biological job to satisfy his Alpha, provide pups, and keep peace. He stood in front of his vanity mirror, wet, naked, wiping off the last traces of grease paint from around his eyes, calming his racing heart. It was better this way. There was no one else that Lord Superman wanted, and Bruce didn’t want anyone beside Kal, either. 

Even if he had to buckle the cuffs on his wrists himself.

Even if he had to slide the ankle cuffs on as well. (He’d misbehaved at something, or Kal would not have left them out for him.)

Even if a stray tear slipped down into the water droplets on his cheeks as he fastened the collar tight around his neck, over the burns, over the scars.

One last breath, and he would walk out into his bedroom, sink to his knees on the carpet, and wait for Kal to come fetch him.

As his wonderful, brilliant, obedient omega should.

It was better this way.


End file.
